If You Find Some Comfort In It
by QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Ron wrote Molly a letter to tell her about Harry's awful relatives and lack of Christmas expectations. What was her thoughts upon seeing that letter, and how did it remind her of her own brothers? Written for the IWSC PR4


**School: Beauxbatons**

**Prompts: Main [Action] Reading by the fire; [Song] The Call by Regina Spektor; [Colour] Yellow**

**Theme: Molly's Knitted Jumpers**

**Wordcount: 2432**

Snow fell as soft as a whisper outside, the weak afternoon sunlight tinted grey as it peeked through the clouds. Harsh wind rattled the windows—sea breeze rolling in and bringing with it an early cold snap. Molly tapped her wand against her leg, a fresh log soaring into the roaring fire. Sparks flew into the chimney, tiny vibrant fireflies in the dim. The flames were a comforting orange, rather than the vibrant green of the Floo she was waiting for.

Molly resisted the urge to check the clock again. Only a few minutes had passed since she had last checked it. It was too soon for anything to have changed and yet… She half turned but paused as parchment crackled with her movement, a flash of yellow catching her eye amidst the faded browns and reds. Carefully she scooped up the parchment from the top of her knitting, needles framing the letter as the half finished jumper she was working on stopped it's fall.

Ron's spidery handwriting greeted her, the ink smudged in places and some suspicious stains that reminded her of jam and butter littering the edges. Would he ever learn? None of her other children seemed to have Ron's strange ability to multitask to that extent, but he was a growing boy after all.

_Dear Mum_, the letter began.

Molly could feel a headache beginning to pulse behind her eyes. Ron's handwriting was difficult to read at the best of times. She was delighted that he took the time to write to her, warmth flooding through her chest at each and every letter, but it took time to parse his strange spidery writing.

_I've been staying out of trouble, I promise. Percy is very pleased with himself and the twins haven't blown up a toilet seat yet. I hope you and Dad and Ginny are doing well._

Molly frowned as her gaze lingered on the next part of the short letter. It had been crossed out and rewritten so many times that Ron's quill had nearly torn through the parchment. That reminded her more of Bill than Ron, his mind wandering constantly while his hand continued writing until his letters home had been filled with cramped handwriting and corrections.

_You remember Harry? You met him on the platform._

Such a polite boy, glasses held together with that strange Muggle tape that Arthur was banned from using after he had gotten himself stuck one afternoon. He'd seemed so small, so pale, and she had longed to hug him tightly. But she resisted. He might not be her child, but she could still support her son in his friendship.

_The Muggles are awful—they aren't going to send him anything for Christmas. And I know we can't do much—_

Her hands spasmed on the edges of the letter, parchment crinkling, before she forced herself to relax. They would manage. It would be fine. Molly's heart panged with worry, momentarily stealing her breath, as she considered what worries she had inadvertently placed onto her children. They were young, they should have time to just be children.

—_But half a loaf of bread is better than none._

* * *

"Half a loaf of bread is better than none."

Molly would have glared at Fabian if she could see him, but he was helpfully obscured by his twin, Gideon, broad and imposing and deliberately not looking at his younger sister.

"You don't have half a watch Fabian, you have no watch," Molly said finally, grunting with effort as the tip of her needle scraped along the back of the watch, that had fallen behind the antique chest of drawers she was precariously balanced on. The edge was cutting into her stomach, dust kicked up by her movements clinging to her dress and hair. She had half a mind to leave them, to leave Fabian's watch—which Gideon had placed a Magic Repelling charm on in order to practice—trapped behind the dresser where Fabian had dropped it.

"True, but I know where it is this time. That's better than nothing," Fabian replied, peering round Gideon with a grin as Molly growled at him, infuriated beyond words.

"I'd just gotten to a good part in my book," Molly complained viciously, giving the watch a firm hit with the needle and hissing in triumph as it moved to the side. Just a bit further, and she could return to her favourite chair, warm and snug, and lose herself into heart pounding romances and plot twists that made her toes curl and mouth fall open.

She could see Fabian open his mouth to respond, but Gideon was faster, clapping a hand over his mouth, cutting off his words to barely more than a whisper.

"Thank you Molly," Gideon said instead, leaning to the side and watching the small gap between wall and dresser, chewing on his lip as the ornaments rattled precariously on their stands.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, feet twitching as she slowly, ever so slowly, nudged the watch sideways.

When Fabian had yelled for her, she had come running, head still stuck halfway in her book of Regency balls and long flowing ball gowns. Her knees ached from where she had tripped on the hem of her own dress—yellow and patchwork, edges frayed and coming undone—but she had still gone to them, footsteps louder than her own pounding heart.

Gideon pounced on the first silver of gold, crooking his fingers into the gap and coming up triumphant, Fabian's watch—the twin to his own—clutched in his fingers.

"Why did you even put that charm on it?" Molly asked, Fabian lifting her down from her uncomfortable perch, watching jealously as Gideon removed the charm with an easy flick of his wand.

"We want Billy to come to our house," Fabian answered, holding out his hands for the watch.

"We have to see what happens to try and keep him safe," Gideon added, manually folding Fabian's fingers around it, ignoring the face his brother pulled.

"If you lose it again, Mum will take it off you until we're seventeen," he warned, "Go enjoy your book Molls."

It was as close to a traditional goodbye as she would get, the pair averse to the words for reasons she didn't fully understand, but she could hear her book calling to her, hear the warmth of the fire now bereft from her bones. And Molly left, kicking the door closed behind her with a grin as her older brothers plotted away.

* * *

"Hold him."

Gideon, to his credit, accepted the toddler with ease when Molly pushed him into his chest, and caught the other when Fabian began to get overwhelmed by the squirming yellow clad ball.

"You called?" Fabian asked, pitching his voice slightly above the wailing voices. With an easy flick of his wrist, wand still strapped in the holster, glowing orbs bubbled from his fingertips. They flashed and spun in mid air, reflected in the wide eyes of the children watching them, mouths agape and silent.

"Arthur's not home yet," Molly said, sitting down heavily in her chair next to the gently crackling fireplace, the green of the Floo returning to normal.

As one, Fabian and Gideon's heads swivelled to the clock hanging on the wall. The face hummed with energy, their own hands peeking out above the cluster of smaller hands depicting the many toddlers currently basked in soft yellow light. Arthur's hand was the sole outlier, pointing resolutely to 'Work' and showing no signs of movement.

"I still think 'Mortal Peril' was a bit much," Fabain said after a few seconds, catching the ball of wool Molly threw at him, winding the soft loose edge round and round in his fingers.

"There is a war on," Molly snapped, picking up a book from the arm of her chair and flicking through a few pages before putting it back on the arm, unable to focus.

Fabian and Gideon were silent, Gideon slowly rocking backwards and forwards as if bracing himself on the deck of a ship, the twins balanced one on each hip.

"I think this one has our nose," Fabian said, ignoring Molly's statement with the ease of having years of practice, peering into the Moses basket next to Molly.

"The twins do, I can tell," Molly said with a sigh, "Ron, I think, takes after Arthur."

Fabian waved his fingers over Ron's head, grinning fondly as the boy tried to grab at his fingers.

"Is the baby in your old dress?" Gideon asked, sitting down on the sofa with a groan that was echoed by the springs regardless of how many charms she wove into the protesting metal.

As a unit, all three adults turned to look at Ginny. She was awake, babbling at the yellow light above her, hands stretched up to grab it with her deceptively sharp nails. Her dress was a modified version of the yellow patchwork dress Molly used to wear as a child. The worn patches had been cut away, as had the damaged hem, leaving behind a short dress, perfect for a baby.

"My only girl," Molly said with a gentle smile.

It fell away from her face as her gaze was drawn back to the clock, worry etched onto her face, folded into lines she was too young to possess.

"Do something," Gideon mouthed frantically at Fabian, jerking his head towards Molly, eyes wide.

"So. Worst case scenario is that he's dead."

Gideon's head slammed into the back of the sofa, hands unable to slam into his forehead due to the twins sprawled across his lap, twisting his rings off his fingers and giggling. He half raised his head to stare longingly into the fire before bracing himself for the explosion he knew was about to happen.

"_What!_" Molly hissed, voice pitched low to avoid upsetting the children, but with anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Hang on, I'm going somewhere," Fabain said calmly, hands clasped in his lap, the very picture of an errant school teacher.

"If I have to go back to Mum and Dad's and listen to another spiel about why we haven't given them grandchildren yet, it won't be Molly or the Death Eaters that kill you, I will," Gideon said, extracting his fingers from the joint grasp of Fred and George, shoving his rings back down his fingers to joint protests.

"Arthur is dead. Half a loaf of bread is better than none. You knew him and loved him for as long as you could," Fabain said, twisting the wool round and round in his hands, the end trailing across Ron's face as he tried to grab it, "It'll be hard, it'll seem like the most difficult thing in the world. But you aren't alone. You call, we come running."

Gideon sighed. Fabian turned to beam at him, just in time to catch him rolling his eyes dramatically at his twin.

"What Fabian is saying, before he dies a fiery murderous death, is we're family. We'll help you, no matter what—Ow!"

Gideon pulled his hand away and pouted down at one of the twins who was beaming up at him, all chubby cheeks and innocence, like butter wouldn't melt.

"What would I do without you?" Molly said, flicking through her book once more with a softer smile, worry abated for the moment.

"You'll be just fine, you're a strong woman."

* * *

Ginny burbled quietly in Molly's lap, yanking on the edge of her yellow patchwork dress. It was significantly worse for wear now—the edge ragged and stained—but currently it was only an obstacle between her and her foot. Molly bounced her gently, reflexively. Her eyes stared unseeing at the letter, the edges tipped in black.

The fire crackled, voices spilling out into the room as the Floo hissed and span through the open network.

"Gideon? Fabian?"

Her call was met with silence, save for the spitting of the flames and the soft cooing of her baby. Why weren't they answering? They always answered, always. It didn't matter what, and it didn't matter when she called for her older brothers, they always answered, they always came.

Molly blindly groped for the letter, fingertips brushing against the parchment, and tried to read it once again. It felt like she was moments away from stepping off a cliff—an irreversible decision that would change her forever—or maybe she had already stepped off, and couldn't see the ground rushing up to meet her.

Words seemed to spring out at her numb, watery eyes, piercing through the film. Ambush. Death Eaters. Custody. Killed in Action. Sorry for your loss. Personal effects inside the envelope.

Her hand shook as she pulled the envelope free from between the cushions, the other hand steadying Ginny on her lap as the girl babbled and pulled on her foot. The watches clunked as they hit the floor, gold tarnished with soot and dirt. The runes on the covers gleamed as brightly as they had on the day Fabian had carved them into the metal: _Half a loaf of bread is better than none._

"Fabian? Gideon?" Molly called again, leaning forward, gaze locked on the fire. She couldn't look at the clock, wouldn't look at the clock. She could sense the ground rushing up to meet her, unknowing and uncaring of what would happen when she hit it. The fire remained silent, just the whispers of strangers' voices slipping past her.

Molly turned to look at the clock. The tarnish had crept up Fabian and Gideon's golden hands, and she knew they would never move again from the 'Mortal Peril' they had sprung to several hours ago. They were gone. They'd never answer her call again.

* * *

Molly blew her nose loudly, idly noticing her handkerchief was that same yellow patchwork dress from so long ago. From her childhood, to Ginny's baby dress, to a handkerchief, it had led a long and varied life. The watches were safe, tucked away in a drawer alongside the hands from the clock, Fabian and Gideon's names still visible amid the darkened metal.

Ron was so much like them. Fred and George resembled them the most in word and manner, but at times she could see Fabian's unshakeable optimism and love for his friends shine cast a clinical eye over the jumper she was in the middle of making. Harry was smaller and shorter than Ron. She would have to adjust her pattern slightly, and in nice Gryffindor colours: red and gold.

With every stitch, she was honouring her brothers—a call that would travel into the afterlife where they would be waiting, twin grins on their faces.


End file.
